Descent To Darkness
by AllyKat D
Summary: Jarod is captured and Lyle devises a way to make him cooperate.
1. Chapter One: No Mercy

#### Descent to Darkness 

by Allie Davidson 

Mrs. Parker, as Brigitte preferred to be addressed, licked her lollipop and stared at a DSA screen showing a sim of young Jarod working with Sydney. This DSA she had discovered was one of the few left in the Centre of Jarod and Sydney; Jarod possessed the others. 

Young Jarod sat at a table; a large aerial photo of a walled compound and surrounding streets covered the table's surface. "The embassy is vulnerable to attack here and here," Jarod pointed to a three story building outside the walled compound, then he pointed to a secondary gated employee entrance. "A sniper has easy access to the three story building across the street, and it would take only a small force of four to five men to gain access to the embassy compound through the poorly guarded side gate." 

"What are your suggestions, Jarod," Sydney asked. 

"Since this building is unoccupied, the best solution is to destroy it." Jarod again indicated the three-story building. "As for the gate, it should be guarded by guards here and here, and another guard positioned on the parapet wall up here. The gate should be replaced and security cameras placed in these areas. Considering the gate's current construction, a vehicle travelling approximately 30 miles an hour could destroy it with little damage to the vehicle itself." 

Sydney patted Jarod on the shoulder. "I'm certain our clients will be pleased with your suggestions. Sydney nodded then smiled down at him. Jarod looked up and returned the smile Brigitte hit the still button. _How Cute._ She took the lollipop out of her mouth, frowned then reversed the DSA, stopping again on the scene where Jarod and Sydney smiled at one another. Brigitte giggled. She retrieved her cell phone out of an inside coat pocket, flipped it open then dialed a number with her thumb. Her called was picked up on the second ring. 

"Hi love," she said. "Could you do something for me? Could you get rid of Sydney?" She nodded at the voice on the other side of the connection. "Yes, that's perfect. And see what you can do to get Broots and Miss Parker away from the Centre. Where?" She paused, listening to the voice on the other end of the connection, then threw back her head and laughed. "Miss Parker will love that." 

Brigitte closed the cell phone with a decisive click, sucked on her lollipop and stared at Jarod and Sydney smiling at one another. _Sweet,_ she thought to herself, _just like father and son._ She stuck the lollipop in her mouth, turned to her desktop computer, opened up a new word processor file and began composing an obituary. 

**** 

Anger tightly leashed, Miss Parker strode into Broot's office. Sam hovered behind her. 

"We're leaving," she ground out. "The Centre's jet is ready. Sam will take you home so you can pack. I'll meet you at the airstrip." 

Broots looked up from the computer screen. "Jarod?" 

"No, the Easter Bunny. Hop hop, now," she snapped. "Of course it's Jarod." 

"I can't leave Debbie behind," Broots said as he stood and shrugged on his coat. 

"Bring her. We're going to Disneyworld." 

"Disneyworld!" Broots burst out. 

"You know, Donald Duck, Mickey Mouse," she paused and looked Broots up and down, "Goofy?" 

**** 

Miss Parker glanced at her watch. Thirty minutes to closing time and the crowds had thinned; employees made up the majority of the park's crowd. Debbie pulled Broots into the Pirates of the Caribbean line for one final ride. At least those two were enjoying themselves. Sam stood at her side and scanned the crowd. A tip had come in that Jarod was working at Disneyworld as one of the strolling Disney characters. Pluto ambled into view talking to Minnie Mouse. Indistinctly she heard their voices. She motioned to Sam and they faded behind a balloon stand. Minnie and Pluto walked closer. 

"Jared, meet me at the employees entrance in an hour and we'll go get dinner," Minnie said. 

"Sounds good, see you then" answered a deep voice muffled behind the heavy mask. Pluto waved as Minnie walked away. 

"That's him!" Miss Parker hissed to Sam. She signal Sam to stay put as she started forward. The big costume limited Jarod's line of sight and that would work to her advantage. Miss Parker walked behind him, pulled her gun, leaned close and pushed the barrel against his ribs. 

"Don't think I won't plug you in Disneyworld, Wonderboy," she said, her voice smug. "If you want to get out of here without a bullet hole in your guts, you'll walk quietly along with me." 

"Please... Don't shoot!" cried a muffled voice from inside the costume. "I'll go with you." 

"That's right you will." Miss Parker jerked her head toward Sam and her joined her. 

"I want you to follow Sam," she instructed Pluto, "and I'm right behind you, so don't cause any problems and no detours to any fire hydrants." 

Pluto nodded vigorously. They escorted Pluto out of the park and to their car. Miss Parker opened the car door and Sam shoved Pluto inside. He sprawled against the leather seats. 

"Now don't you look cute," Miss Parker said, smiling as she sat next to him. She reached over and yanked off the Pluto mask. "But Pluto just isn't right. I always expected you to be the Road Runner." 

The kid with long stringy blonde hair who stared at her was not Jarod. "The... the roadrunner is uh Warner Brothers," he stuttered. 

Miss Parker stared. "Who the hell are you?" 

"I'm Jared," the kid said, his voice trembled and he cringed against the seats. "Please, don't hurt me." 

Miss Parker opened the car door and tossed the Pluto head out onto the asphalt then turned and grabbed the frightened kid by the neck. 

"Run away Pluto, and if you tell anyone you've seen me I'll have you neutered." 

She shoved him toward the opened door, planted her foot on his ass and gave him a hard shove. He scrambled to his feet and ran without looking back. 

**** 

The falling rain mingled with the tears on Jarod's face. From the cover of trees on a knoll above the cemetery, he watched the funeral. At this distance, and through the sheets of pouring rain, he thought he could see Miss Parker and Broots, Michele and Nicolas all huddled together watching the casket lower into the ground. The tree bark scratched against Jarod's cheek as he wrapped one arm around a tree trunk, slid to the wet ground and wept, not caring that the rain soaked into his jeans or plastered his hair against his head. At this moment the world could disappear and he wouldn't have care. 

Sydney was dead. 

If he could call anyone father, it would be Sydney. 

"Couldn't resist coming here, could you, luv," said a smug female voice. "Time to come home my wayward prince." 

The wet leaves had muffled the footsteps of the sweeper team that crept out of the forest and surrounded him. Jarod didn't care and bowed his head toward the damp ground. He didn't even have the will to move when a 9mm gun barrel indented the flesh on his temple. Two men grasped either arm and jerked him to his feet. He sagged between them. Brigitte walked into his view. She brushed her gun barrel under his chin. 

"Cheer up, Jarod. No one lives forever," she quipped with a mock pout. "Not even Sydney." 

Jarod looked up and into Brigitte's smirking face and sorrow turned to rage. Who was she to mock Sydney's death? 

"Damn you!" Jarod bellowed and lunged at her. His sudden movement took the two men off guard and he pulled from their grasp. Jarod lunged and tackled Brigitte taking her down with him into the muddy ground. He straddled her and wrapped his hands around her throat. For the first time he saw that smug smirk wiped off her face as he squeezed. She grabbed his wrists and tried to wrest them from around her throat. Hate and rage smothered rational thought and lent him strength. 

A gun butt slammed into the back of his head. He ignored the pain. Blood streamed down his temple and splattered onto Brigitte's face and across the tree trunk. Four men wrestled him away. A hard kick to his ribs brought a strident wave of pain; another kick to the side of his head blurred his vision. He curled into a fetal position trying to protect himself. The abuse continued. 

Brigitte holding her bruised throat and gasping for breath was the last thing he saw before the woods wavered out of focus, then went black 

**** 

Sydney only partially listened to the speaker who lectured on ground-breaking research into the psychology of twins. So far the conference had been interesting. He visited with colleagues he hadn't seen in years and enjoyed the sites of Milan, Italy. Despite this, something bothered him, a creeping sense of unease and an unshakable feeling that the Centre sent him to Italy to get rid of him. Why? There was only one thing that really mattered to him and that was Jarod. If the Centre felt compelled to send him away that could only mean it had to do with Jarod. 

At intermission, instead of mingling and discussing the lecture with colleagues, he made his way across the hotel lobby and up the elevator to his room. In his room he picked up the phone and dialed Miss Parker's direct number. When no one answered, he tried Broots; no answer there either. He use the operator option on the Centre's phone system and the main switchboard operator picked up. 

"This is Sydney Green. I'm calling from Italy. Miss Parker isn't answering her phone," he said to the women. "Could you locate her please." 

"I'm sorry, but Miss Parker is out of town." 

"Out of town?" Sydney echoed. "Where is she?" 

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that information over the phone." 

"Yes, I understand. Could I speak to Broots?" 

"I'm sorry again, Mr. Green, but Broots is not available." 

Sydney didn't press the operator for more information. That Broots and Miss Parker were unavailable simply confirmed his suspicions that something was going on. He hung up the phone, stared out the window for a moment then picked up the phone again and dialed another number. "I would like to change my reservations." He gave his flight information to the reservation operator. "You have a flight this evening? That would be fine. Please book me a seat." 

**** 

"Jarod, you're being uncooperative," Lyle said with false kindness and wagged his finger. 

Jarod struggled against the restraints; both wrists and ankles were manacled. He was locked in a small cell room similar to the one he had occupied during his earlier years at the Centre. Once, he thought he heard the distinctive squeak of the wheels on Raines's oxygen tank and heard the man's raspy breathing, but he never saw the man. 

"I'd go to hell before I'd ever help you," Jarod ground out. 

Lyle shrugged. "Now _ that _ can be arranged. Hell will be a cozy warm place compared to where you're going." Lyle motioned with one hand and a nurse appeared. She held a hypodermic needle. "In fact, you'll soon be begging to help me." 

"What! What are you doing to me!" Jarod's frantic eyes went to the hypodermic needle in the nurse's hand. She approached him and he struggled. Two husky men, sweepers by the look of them, held him down while the nurse tied a length of surgical tubing around his arm. She whacked a finger against his arms, then slipped the needle into a fat vein, pushing the plunger, releasing the drug into his bloodstream. "No!" he screamed and arched backwards. 

Euphoric warmth spread throughout his body, starting at his toes and working up to his head, tingling along his scalp. A seductive peaceful feeling washed over him. His struggles ceased. He fell back on the bed, closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The numbness was bliss. Pain, hatred and anger wavered, then blew away like fallen leaves in a breeze. Lyle stood over him, his face oddly contorted and his voice sounding like it came from the end of a long tube. His lips didn't move in sync with his words. 

"How long before he's addicted?" he asked. 

"Four doses at the least, six on the outside," the nurse answered. 

"How often?" 

"Sometimes twice a day, sometimes once, depends on the individual and when they become sick. That is when you give them more." 

"The make sure he gets it when he needs it." Lyle leaned over Jarod. "Enjoy your trip." Lyle disappeared and the clang of the cell door closing echoed over and over through Jarod's mind. 

**** 

"Daddy, that trip was a waste of time and if I had to speculate, I would say it was a decoy." 

"Decoy?" Mr. Parker chuckled. "Now Angel, Brigitte gained that information from a very reliable source." 

"And who would that be, Mickey Mouse?" Miss Parker asked with mock politeness. 

Brigitte opened the door and sauntered into Mr. Parker's office. Miss Parker suppressed the overwhelming urge to punch that smirk off the other woman's face, or at least shove that lollipop in a more appropriate place. 

"Didn't find anything, Miss Parker?" Brigitte taunted as she snuggled into her new husband's arms. Her voice sounded more husky than usual. 

Miss Parker's expression hardened. "You tell me Brigitte. What was I suppose to find?" 

Brigitte shrugged then smiled up at Mr. Parker, rubbing noses with him. Miss Parker wanted to puke. Then she noticed something; finger shaped bruises colored the skin around Brigitte's neck. The woman had tried to cover it with makeup, but the purple-yellow bruises were still visible. Miss Parker wondered if she'd have to stand in line for the privilege to wrap her fingers around Brigitte's neck. 

"Well, why you two are locking lips, I have work to do." Miss Parker stalked out of her father's office as Brigitte's insufferable giggling followed her out. She slammed the door and came face to face with her brother. 

"Bad hair day?" Lyle said pleasantly. He smiled at her and clasped his hands behind him. 

Miss Parker stood close to her brother, ran a hand up his tie then grasped it and yanked him close. "If I find something has been going on behind my back, and that something has to do with Jarod, you're going to be singing soprano in the women's Sunday church choir." 

**** 

Jarod didn't know how long he'd been in his cell room. The nurse would show up once a day, sometimes twice with a dose of the drug. At first he fought the nurse and the men who came with her, then he looked forward to her visit, and to the drug that slithered through his veins making him forget everything, who he was, what he wanted, why he was here and most importantly Sidney's death. The pain faded further away with each dose until the hurt was an abstract annoyance and no longer important. 

He didn't know how many days had passed when the nurse came in and gave him something to drink. She didn't have the hypodermic needle with her and it took all his strength not to beg. He was thirsty and drank the mildly medicinal tasting liquid. 

Whatever it was, it cleared his mind and made him painfully alert, brought everything that had happened to him into sharp focus and made him think of things that he didn't want to think of. Lyle walked in, tipped his head like a friendly puppy. 

"Looking for this?" Lyle held a hypodermic needle just out of Jarod's reach. "I can see it in your eyes. You help me and I'll help you." 

"Yes," he finally whispered and hated himself for it and hated Lyle's triumphant expression. "I'll help you." 

"I thought so." Lyle motioned behind him and two Centre guards walked into the room. "Get him a shower and clean clothes." 

They didn't have to bother with the manacles; those had disappeared days ago, they were no longer needed. Jarod didn't have the strength or the will to leave. He stood and followed them down a long unmarked hallway dimly aware this was a Centre sublevel, although the usual Centre personnel were absent. He felt a little better with a shower and clean clothing, but the craving lurked and his stomach churned. One of the guards motioned him out of the lavatory. 

The guards escorted him to the end of the hall and through a heavy steel door. Too tired to be surprised, Jarod entered a newly constructed simulation room. The difference between this simulation room and the others he had worked in was size; this room rivaled the size of school gym. 

At one end of the room, a miniature detailed model of a city was constructed across several long workbenches. A life-size stage set complete with buildings, streets and live-size cardboard mockups of pedestrians spread across the remainder of the room. The style and architecture of the buildings were Spanish and vaguely familiar. A man and a woman, whom Jarod did not recognize, sat at a fold-out desk. 

Lyle nodded toward the man who stood and approached them. 

"It's your show now, Monsieur Boutroux," Lyle said, gesturing to Jarod. 

"Does he understand French?" the Frenchman asked. 

"Oui," Jarod said, replying in French. 

For the next two hours Monsieur Boutroux took Jarod around the life-size stage, and then to the model of a city. Somewhere in Spain or perhaps Portugal, Jarod guessed judging by street layout and the architecture. He committed a few unusual landmarks to memory. He wondered if he would remember, or if he would ever need to. Lyle followed them, sometimes asking Jarod to translate. 

"How many in the motorcade?" Jarod asked the Frenchman as the man pointed out a route through the city. 

"Six cars, four men in each and all armed. The individual we seek will be riding in the forth car." 

Jarod hesitated then glanced up at Lyle who patted his suit jacket, a reminder that relief would be withheld if he didn't cooperate. 

"You need to split the motorcade, the goal being to separate the first three guarding vehicles from the target vehicle." He pointed a stoplight. "Position one of your men here at this corner. He needs to blend in with pedestrian traffic, perhaps read a paper or sit at this café. He will handle a device that can change the light from green to red to strategically split the motorcade. Here in the intersection, stall a large vehicle to prevent the last two cars from veering around or escaping in an unplanned direction. With gunfire from men in these position here and here," he pointed to buildings on either side of the street, "you need to startle the target vehicle into moving down this street here. The desired destination is this area." He pointed to a small village-like square several miles to the west of the stoplight. 

"And how can we make certain they'll go there," Boutroux asked. 

"A series of impassible obstacles. More stalled cars, working construction crews." Jarod swallowed, braced both hands on the table then looked up, he avoided looking at Lyle. "Is your goal assassination or kidnapping." 

"Kidnapping," the Frenchman said. 

After several hours of detailed information, the drug that the nurse had given him began to wear off. Barely able to control the tremors in his hands, and sick at his stomach he yearned for the drug to ease his pain. He took a deep thankful breath when the Frenchman turned to Lyle. 

"Your man was most helpful," Boutroux said. He and Lyle shook hands, then he motioned to his female partner and she pulled a laptop from a computer case. "My assistant is transferring the remainder of the fee into your account." 

"Pleasure to do business," Lyle said. 

**** 

Miss Parker breezed into Broot's office, stood in front of his desk with her arms cross and stared down her nose at him. "I don't like being summoned like a pet dog. You better have something for me," she said. 

Broots squirmed in his seat then motioned her over. "It's not what I've found," he said in a low voice, "but what I haven't found." 

"Get to the point." 

"Yes, well, you see I always find a trace of Jarod somewhere, but for the last week I've found nothing. It's like he's just disappeared." 

Miss Parker braced her hands on Broots's desk and leaned over. "What? Is this going to turn into a game of twenty questions? Just tell me what the hell you're talking about." 

"Jarod is gone. I found out where he was a week and a half ago. Look." Broots extracted a lined note pad from a drawer, several pages held copious notes. "He was working for the Sierra Club as an environmental lawyer. Then, according to the employee I spoke to, he told them he needed time off to attend a funeral and never came back. The firm had his apartment checked and all his belongings are still there. They have reported him to local police as a missing person." 

"A funeral?" Miss Parker said, more to herself. "Have you found anything on that?" 

"Nothing. Jarod doesn't have any family," Broots paused and cleared his throat, "well at least none that he can find." 

"Good job Broots," Miss Parker said, laid a hand briefly on his shoulder. "Keep looking." 

**** 

Jarod sat on his cot, sweat poured down his face, his clothing was soaked, his breath was short and fast. His entire body shook and needle sharp pains spiked up him arms and legs. 

"You were very good today," Lyle praised him like a trained dog. He held up a hypodermic needle. "Looking for this? You earned it." 

The nurse was no longer needed, neither were the guards to hold him down. Jarod snatched the needle from Lyle's hand. Holding one end of surgical tubing between his teeth and grasping the other end in his right hand, he pulled it tight around his upper arm. Lyle watched as he injected the drug 

"This was too easy," Lyle said, disgust in his voice. 

Jarod was beyond caring. He sought the drug's solace; he had to have the peace it gave him. He didn't hear Lyle leave, only the door closing and locking behind him. 

Jarod's eyelids fluttered as the drug oozed through his bloodstream. If hell did existed, he had found it. 

End of Part I. Continued in "The Devil you Know"... 


	2. Chapter Two: Devil you Know

#### Descent to Darkness Part II: The Devil you Know

By Allie Davidson 

Lyle sat behind a two-way mirror and watched Jarod and Dr. Raines work on a hijacking sim. 

"Now this is a sight," he said to Brigitte who sat in a chair behind him in the observation room. 

The woman leaned forward and rested her forearms on the back of the folding chair in front of her. "Who would have ever thought the lab rat would willingly work with Doctor Frankenstein." 

"He knows what happens if he doesn't." 

"How do you know he's not lying and sabotaging the sims?" 

Lyle lifted one eyebrow and his eyes never left Jarod as he replied. "I've been over that with him. Let me just say that he has incentive to make certain our clients are successful." 

"I won't ask what that is," Brigitte. 

"You don't want to know." 

Since he and Brigitte captured Jarod, there was no lack of clients needing their advice, or rather the advice of their pretender. Lyle wasn't concerned with what his clients required; he didn't care if Jarod help the clients plan the annihilation of an entire country as long as he collected his fee. 

Jarod was an extraordinary man, though Lyle would never admit the awe he felt watching Jarod work. The problem with Jarod was that he cared too much about the little people, and that was a weakness to be exploited. Jarod still didn't know that Sydney wasn't dead. Lyle wasn't going to tell him. He wanted Jarod dependent, helpless and without hope. 

"Many hijacks fail due to lack of contingency planning," Jarod was saying. Lyle could hear him through the one-way speaker system, the timbre of his usually deep voice was hoarse and shaking. Jarod sat before a table containing a cutaway model of a large transport airplane and an enlarged aerial photo of an area somewhere in Central America. "There has to be back up plans for every leg of the operation," Jarod continued. "To do this successfully, you need to break down the operation into separate segments." He pointed to the map. "We've already discussed the initial hijacking of the plane. The next segment is to confuse any pursuers. The client will need to construct an airstrip here and camouflage it from the possibility of satellite photos. No more than fifteen minutes before the craft lands, the runway should be cleared and prepared. A ground crew will be on alert to assist in moving the plane's contents to another craft. Then, the transponder from the original craft should be removed and placed into a decoy, preferably something with good maneuverability like a helicopter, or a vehicle that can be easily abandoned later on. The original craft should then be destroyed immediately. The new plane, painted with a fake tour logo and carrying the contraband, needs to be back in the air in ten minutes and no longer. Total time between transport plane landing and new plane taking off is no more than 25 minutes. I suggest several trial runs through this segment before the actual job." 

"What about the hijacked flight crew?" Raines asked in his raspy voice and breathed deeply. He placed a hand on the table, leaned over Jarod and stared at the photo. 

Jarod lowered his head, his forearms on the table, his hands clenched. When he raised his head he looked directly into the two-way mirror as though he knew Lyle watched him. Lyle felt a chill travel up his spine at the rage he saw in Jarod's face. 

"For the plan to work they have to be killed," Jarod said, his voice low and rough. He stood, his chair falling backwards as he swept an arm across the table. The contents fell to the floor, the plane model broke into pieces on the cold tiles. 

"I won't do this!" he shouted to the one-way mirror. Raines straightened, drew away from him and backed into a corner. 

"Looks like your lab rat is having a little temper tantrum," Brigitte said as she extracted a lollipop out of a jacket pocket. 

"Trust me, it won't last long," Lyle said as he tipped his head toward the woman. He stood, leaned over and pressed a doorbell-like button attached to the wall beside the two-way mirror. 

Jarod had turned and shoved Raines to the ground, then snatched a chair and dashed it against the one-way mirror, once, twice, three times. Spider cracks splintered across the reinforced glass. Then, the door to the sim room burst open and three men entered and rushed toward him. Jarod spun around swinging the chair and cracking one man over the head then swept it around smashing it into the side of another man. Two men down. The remaining man danced out of reach of the chair, keeping narrowed eyes on Jarod. Even in this weakened state, Jarod was still dangerous. Lyle pressed the button twice more. 

"Does he do this often?" Brigitte asked with a lift of one brow and licked her lollipop. 

"Not often, but later he's always very apologetic," Lyle replied unruffled as two more men and a doctor rushed into the room. Raines had been assisted to his feet and taken out of the room. It took three men to subdue Jarod. They held him down on the floor, pressing their weight onto his arms and legs as the doctor approached and injected a sedative into his bicep. 

"Damn you Lyle!" Jarod bellowed. 

"Excuse me a moment," Lyle said to Brigitte, stood and exited out of the observation room, walking around to the sim room. He entered and stood above Jarod. 

"You're going to have to kill me. I don't care," Jarod shouted and struggled. 

Lyle looked down at him and tsked, then drew back and kicked him in the ribs three times. He felt something giveway and crack under the second kick. He'd probably broken one of Jarod's ribs. Jarod's eyes closed, his breath whooshed from his lungs. 

"You know that's gotta hurt," Lyle said, then lifted a foot and pressed it against Jarod's throat. "Centre reality check, Jarod. The Centre owns you. You are a tool. What ever needs to be done to ensure your cooperation will be pursued. And I can be very persuasive. Understand?" When Jarod didn't answer Lyle leaned his weight into his foot. Jarod gasped for air, but the defiant light in his eyes never dimmed. 

Lyle watched the man for a moment before removing his foot. "Take him to the room." 

**** 

Miss Parker made her way through the cemetery to her mother's grave. Arriving at the grave she knelt down and propped an armful of flowers against the gravestone. 

"I miss you," she said softly, and touched the ground with her fingertips, hoping that somehow her mother would know how much she was missed. 

She stood and strolled through the quiet cemetery enjoying the early morning sunshine. She and the groundskeeper were the only ones present. Birds hidden among green boughs sang and the grass still glimmered with morning dew. She lingered despite a pressing urgency to get to the Centre. She knew Brigitte and Lyle were up to something, but so far she, Sydney and Broots hadn't found anything. That the Centre found excuses to send the three of them away on what she considered Wild Goose Chases made warning bells go off in her head. She had Broots looking through recent Centre records for anything odd. Despite the grief that she gave him, she trusted him and his hacking talents. If there was a secret in the Centre, he would find it. 

She passed the groundskeeper. He crawled around on his hands and knees placing long rolls of sod in the bare earth. A gravestone had been pulled out of the ground and laid to one side. 

"What happened?" Miss Parker asked. "Someone decide they weren't dead?" 

The groundskeeper looked up and grimaced. "You ain't from the production company, are you?" 

"Production company?" Miss Parker echoed. 

"Guess not. We had folks filming some kind of movie here, and they used this gravesite. They were insistent that this area be returned to its original state, pronto. I didn't have the chance until today. I thought you were one of them coming to make certain the job had been done." 

Miss Parker sauntered over to read the headstone and froze. Sydney Green? Events began clicking together like puzzle pieces in her head. She could think of only one funeral that Jarod would risk his freedom to attend. Her hands clenched at her side. 

"Did you by chance meet any of the production people?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm. 

"Not directly, but I did see a lady talking to the director. She had dark hair like yours, and blue eyes. She sucked on a lollipop--" 

"If anyone asks, you haven't seen me," Miss Parker interrupted the man. "Got it?" 

The groundskeeper swallowed. "Sure. I haven't seen anyone." He continued to work, studiously staring at the ground as Miss Parker walked away. At the end of the cemetery, by the parking lot where she had parked her Boxster, Miss Parker turned, scanned the cemetery and gathered her thoughts. 

"This stinks of Lyle," she said to herself, pulled her cell phone out a coat pocket and hit a speed dial button. 

**** 

Sydney knelt down next to Angelo who lay curled up on the floor uncommunicative, his arms wrapped tightly over his head. He'd been like this for several days and Sydney hadn't been able to find any reason. His cell phone rang and he pulled it out of an inside suit pocket and flipped it open. 

"This is Sydney," he answered after the second ring. 

"Syd," Miss Parker said. "I'm at the cemetery. I need you and Broots here." 

"Can you tell me what this is about?" 

"Not now. Don't tell anyone where you're going." 

"I'm in the middle of something. Can it wait?" He touched Angelo's head and the man trembled slightly and moaned. 

"I don't think so. There's something here you need to see." 

Sydney wondered what could be at a cemetery that he needed to see. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He returned the cell phone to a pocket. 

"Pain and hurting," Angelo mumbled and curled up tighter. It was the first words Sydney had heard him speak in two days. 

"Whose pain, Angelo?" Sydney said softly, placing a hand on the man's arm. Angelo shivered. He noticed Angelo's hand closed around something. Prying open his fingers was no easy task, and what he held at last was a small scrap of clothing. "Whose is this?" he asked gently. 

"Hurting him. Make them stop." Angelo squeezed his eyes closed. 

Sydney looked up at the sound of squeaking wheels and raspy breathing. 

"What's wrong with him?" Raines asked, coming to stand over Sydney and Angelo. 

"I don't know, I was hoping you could tell me," Sydney said. 

Angelo opened one eye, spied Raines then began to sob. "Stop him!" 

**** 

"You took your time," Miss Parker said as Sydney and Broots climbed out of the automobile. 

"I was detained," Sydney explained. "I couldn't excuse myself without rousing suspicion. What is it, Miss Parker." 

"Come with me," she crooked a finger toward the two men and led them along a path to where the groundskeeper still lay sod on the exposed earth. She pointed to the gravestone. "Take a look." 

Sydney shrugged, perplexed, then walked to the gravestone. Horror spread across his face while his lips moved silently reading the name and epitaph carved on the marble stone. Broots stood along side him; his gaze darted from the older man to Miss Parker. 

"Is this a joke?" Broots asked. 

"A joke is suppose to be funny," Miss Parker said. " 

"Why does this gravestone have my name?" Sydney asked quietly. 

"Now that is exactly what I want to know." She motioned them out of hearing range of the groundskeeper. "The groundskeeper described Brigitte to me. Now, what is the one thing that would draw Jarod out?" 

"My death," Sydney said, then nodded. 

"Jarod went to a funeral," Broots said. "You're funeral, Sydney. You think Brigitte and Lyle have Jarod?" 

"Yes I do, and I think he's right under our noses." 

She pointed up along the line of trees surrounding the east boundary of the cemetery. "Jarod would come to your funeral, but he wouldn't show himself. The clearest line of sight and also the best concealment would be from that ridge of trees up there. Let's look and see what we find." 

The three of them swept the area for two hours. Miss Parker knew she'd have to call off their search soon, she didn't want anyone at the Centre becoming suspicious if they were out together too long. Neither Sydney nor Broots were in sight so she extracted her cell phone, flipped it open and called Sydney. 

"Find anything?" she asked. 

"A few footprints, nothing else. Broots and I crossed paths a few moments ago. He's here. He hasn't found anything." 

"Damn," Miss Parker said softly. "We're going to have to pack it up-," her voice trailed off as her gaze swept the ground around her. "Hold on. I think I've found something." 

"I believe we're south of you. We'll be right there," Sydney replied, but Miss Parker didn't hear. She folded up the cell phone and returned it to the pocket. 

The ground and the leaves here had been disturbed. She looked around finding several dozen old faded footprints in the bare earth and more crushed leaves from a struggle of some sort. She then hunched down and stared closely at odd brown stains on the leaves. The stains had been smeared, probably by the rain. She looked up. Possibly the only reason the stains had not been washed away was due to the relative shelter by the tree boughs above. She picked up a leaf. The stains looked suspiciously like blood. The more she looked around her, the more blood she found. She knew there were a few types of wounds that bled this much. Head wounds and gunshot wounds came to mind. 

She looked up as Broots and Sydney came into view. She motioned to them and held up a leaf. 

"Blood," Broots said. He pulled a plastic bag and tweezers from his jacket. He plucked up a few of the leaves, put them in the bag and sealed it. "I can have the DNA on this checked." 

"How soon?" Miss Parker asked. 

Broots shrugged. "One of the guys in the lab is a friend of mine who owes me. He may have something by tomorrow evening." 

**** 

In the air conditioning vent, Angelo cringed, his back pressed against the smooth walls as he listened to the echo of hoarse screams. He pressed his hands to his ears attempting to shut out the sound and rocked back and forth, tears trickled down his face. 

"Hurting," he mumbled. "They're hurting him." 

Angelo wanted to help his friend but he couldn't, at least not on his own. The cell was too well guarded and Lyle was always around. Angelo was afraid of Lyle. His rocking stopped. He pulled his hands away from his ears then he turned and crouch-ran down the air duct toward the main area of the Centre. 

**** 

Only a desklamp and the glow of the computer monitor lit up Broot's office. He sat at his desk and brought up his email, scanned the headers and clicked on one. "10pm and as promised here's the lab report, right on time." His eyes flicked back and forth as he read, then nodded. "That was Jarod's blood all right." 

"And you have found nothing else?" Miss Parker failed to keep the impatience out of her voice. 

"I've looked all over the Centre files, Miss Parker," Broots said. Sydney lounged in a chair near the door, alert for any sounds of approaching footsteps. "I've broken into expense records and report files. I didn't find anything. Nothing is out of place. There's been a lot of money directed toward remodeling, but that isn't unusual. I don't think they have Jarod in the Centre. They must be holding him somewhere else." 

"What are you thinking, Miss Parker," Sydney asked. 

Miss Parker crossed her arms and leaned back against Broot's desk. "They have him here," she said. "The question in my mind is where would they hide him? Where would be the most unlikely place?" Her eyes narrowed. "SL27" 

"Did you say SL27?" Broots shuddered. "It's been closed up since the explosion and the fire." 

"I think we should take a look and see what we find," she said. 

"Broots is right, Miss Parker, there is nothing down there. SL27 was destroyed." 

"At least that is what they want us to think," she said looking between them. She could see the reluctance in their faces. She didn't blame them. After all, the explosion had temporarily taken Sydney's eyesight. Though he had recovered, there had been moments when she thought he'd never would. "Look, I don't like the place either, but if they are hiding Jarod why not hid him where no one would suspect?" 

**** 

The beams of flashlights stabbed the darkness as Miss Parker followed Broots and Sydney down the access ladder into SL27. She beamed her flashlight across the charred walls, the smell of old fire still in the air. She shivered and resisted the urge to wrap her arms around her. This place gave her the creeps. Broken glass and charred bits of unidentified objects crunched under their feet as they walked forward. Miss Parker halted, unwilling to go further. Her hunch had been wrong. Jarod wasn't down here. Nothing was down here. Sydney continues forward as he shinned his flashlight beam up at the ceiling and into empty, doorless rooms. 

"Do you smell something odd?" Sydney asked as he walked to the doorway of a room, then back out. 

Miss Parker grimaced. "Smells like burnt hair." 

"No, something else. I smell it too," Broots said, turning a flashlight beam up at the old air ducts. "Smells like someone has been painting." 

Miss Parker reluctantly took a big sniff. She smelled it too, the chemical odor of paint mingled with other unpleasant smells. 

Sydney nodded. "Exactly. Now why would we smell paint down here?" 

"Someone has decided SL27 would make a good fixer upper project?" Miss Parker suggested with a lift of one eyebrow. "Let's go." 

Farther down the hallway they came up short against a wall. 

"This wasn't here before," Sydney said. 

"I don't remember it either," Miss Parker replied. 

The wall appeared charred. Miss Parker leaned forward and sniffed. The wall held a faint odor of paint. She put out a finger and touched it and her finger came away clean without any black smudges. 

"The wall has been painted to look burnt," Sydney said and he flashed his light over the wall and ran a hand over the smooth surface. "It's still tacky so it's been recently painted." He turned to Broots. "Is there any other way into SL27." 

"Possibly the elevator on the east end of the building, but if it's working to this floor, it will be guarded," he replied, his gaze dropped to the floor and he shuffled his feet. 

"Well?" Miss Parker prompted. "Are you going to tell us or are we going to have to guess?" 

"There's the buildings air ducts and cooling system. I know where I can find a schematic." 

"A guide would be better," Sydney said. "Angelo." 

**** 

Jarod lay on his cot and shivered, sweat soaked blankets and sheets. He simultaneously felt hot and cold, but the pain racing up his nerve endings never varied, never lessened. His hands had frozen into claws and his body wouldn't respond. He just laid and shivered and swallowed the screams that threatened to burst forth. 

"I won't help you," he managed as another wave of icy shivers traveled up his body. 

"You're too hard on yourself," Lyle's voice came from across the room. "And you're not doing yourself any favors. You cooperate and your life gets easier. It's that simple." 

"I won't be responsible for the deaths of innocent people." Sweat poured down his forehead and stung his eyes as he tried to focus on Lyle. 

"Now that is funny," Lyle said and laughed, his tone humorless. "All this denial. Jarod, you are responsible for more death and destruction then even I can imagine, and I can image a lot. And this clinging to false heroics is ludicrous." Jarod could hear the rustle of Lyle's clothing as moved across the room. "Make certain you give him enough that he stays like this all night," Lyle said to someone. 

"Well, it's late and I'm leaving. I have a feeling you'll be feeling differently about this in the morning. Sleep on it, will you?" Lyle laughed. 

Jarod heard Lyle's footsteps recede. Someone moved close to him. He felt the prick of a needle in his arm, then heard footsteps and the door closing. He was alone. 

And the agony began. 

Tremors racked his body and fingers of pain raced up every nerve ending. He tumbled off the bed to the cold concrete floor. He opened his eyes and watched the walls of his cell melted like lava, glowing streaming of burning yellow-light oozed toward his body. The acrid smell of burning flesh rose around him. Ghost-like tendrils of smoke filled the room as the lava flowed over his body and into his eyes, into his mouth, consuming him, burning him alive. 

He began to scream. 

**** 

"What the hell is that?" Miss Parker paused in the air duct. 

"Sounds like screaming," Broots said and cocked his head. 

"He's hurting," Angelo mumbled. "Hurting bad. Lyle hurting him. Hurry." 

"This is what Angelo has been saying for the last few days. I think he's been referring to Jarod." Sydney grasped Angelo's arm. "Who is Lyle hurting, Angelo?" 

"Hurting," Angelo said and flinched. He pulled away from Sydney and scurried down the air conditioning duct. 

Miss Parker glanced at Sydney and Broots, a chill running up her spine as another scream echoed up to them. 

"That is Jarod...?" Sydney and Broots looked as unsettled as she felt. She couldn't image what would make Jarod scream this way. 

"Hurry," said Angelo looking over his shoulder. "He needs your help." 

The air conditioning duct ended at a metal grating that opened into a sterile white hallway, freshly painted, Miss Parker noted. SL27 had been resurrected. Miss Parker climbed out first. The screams were louder here, and the shrill panic in those screams made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Angelo shook his head, fear lurking in his eyes, and sat back on his haunches. She knew he'd be there to help them escape from SL27. 

"Guard down there," Angelo pointed. 

Miss Parker nodded and drew her gun as Broots and Sydney climbed out of the air duct. "Let me take care of this." 

The gun held firmly in both hands, Miss Parker crept down the hall, the screams masking the sound of her footsteps. A man stood with his back to her as he stared toward the source of the screams coming from a room a half dozen doors away. She crept up beside him. 

"Boo!" she said in his ear. He flinched, started to turn then halted at the gun barrel pressed into the soft area below his jaw. "Get down on your knees," Miss Parker ordered between clenched teeth. He hesitated and she cocked the gun. "You could say I'm not really a happy camper at the moment, so don't give me any reason to pull the trigger." The man fell to his knees. "You're lucky that this is all I have time for." She slammed the butt of the gun down twice on the back of his head. He collapsed to the floor. "I'm saving the best part for Lyle," she said to the unconscious man. She turned as Sydney and Broots joined her. 

The screams had turned to whimpers and they followed the sounds to a cell room. An electronic passcode device was mounted on the wall. A steel pull-back latch with a solid red indicator light secured the door. Miss Parker peered in through the small, reinforced glass window set into the door. 

"Oh god," she whispered. "It's Jarod. Broots, can you get this door open?" 

"I... I think so," Broots replied and nodded. He looked in through the window, glanced away quickly, shuddered then directed his attention on the passcode device. "It may be rigged to set off a silent alarm if the wrong code is entered. I need something to pop off the cover." 

Miss Parker patted her coat pockets, then pulled out a metal fingernail file. "Will this do?" 

"It'll have to," Broots said, and started working. 

"Oh, and Broots." Miss Parker tapped his shoulder. He turned and looked at her. "Hurry, will you?" 

Miss Parker looked again into the window. Sydney stared, horror in his eyes. 

"What have they done to him?" he finally managed. 

"Knowing Lyle, any number of gruesome guesses is probably true or close to the truth." 

On the floor Jarod lay twitching and shivering. His arms crossed over his face as though warding off phantasms only he could see. 

"Why would they do this to Jarod?" Miss Parker said more to herself, hardly able to believe that even Lyle would stoop to this. Then again, evidence still suggested he had killed his mail order bride. Lyle, she believed, was capable of almost anything to get what he wanted. 

"I know Jarod would not willingly work with Lyle, but there are ways to coherence and break down even the strongest will," Sydney said. 

The red light on the latch blinked then turned solid green and the internal door latch mechanisms clicked. 

"Broots, you're a genius," Miss Parker said and meant it as she threw back the latch and entered the room. She stood at the door to keep an eye on the outside corridor while Sydney ran over to Jarod and knelt beside him. 

"Jarod?" he said softly and pulled Jarod's arms away from his face. He then peeled back the eyelids and looked at the dilated pupils. "They have him drugged." Sydney looked around then pointed to a wastebasket. "See what you can find, Miss Parker." 

Usually Miss Parker would protest over being ordered to go through someone's trash, but this was not the time. She quickly found two syringes and held them up. 

"Save them," Sydney said. "We'll need them to figure what they've been giving Jarod." 

"Sydney?" Jarod said, his eyes fluttered open, his voice rough and barely audible. "I must be dead." 

Sydney motioned to Broots, and together they lifted Jarod off the floor, propping him between them, shrugging his arms over their shoulders. "We're going to get you out of here." 

**** 

Jarod looked like hell, Miss Parker thought as she sat in the corner of the bedroom. His skin was pale and pasty looking, and dark circles underlined his eyes. He'd lost weight; the clothes Sydney and Broots removed from him had hung like rags. Sydney brought sedatives for him and the plastic brown bottles sat on the nightstand next to the table. Jarod would go through withdrawals Sydney had explained, and the sedatives would lessen the symptoms. The best thing for him was food and rest. Right now he was sleeping, albeit restlessly, better then the screaming and his hallucinations they had to deal with earlier. Toward sunrise, they had finally calmed him down. She looked at her watch. It was 7:30am. 

"Why, it's Miss Parker. As they say, the devil you know is better than the devil you don't," said a weak voice. 

Miss Parker looked up. "How do you feel?" She walked over and knelt next to the bed. She rested one hand on his arm, then ran her fingers through his hair lifting it off his sweaty forehead. 

"Like someone is using my head as an anvil," Jarod groaned. 

She smiled faintly. She now understood what "hell warmed over" looked like, and it looked like Jarod. She reached over, retrieved a glass of water off the nightstand and offered it to him. He took it, and she helped tilt his head up so he could drink. Even that effort exhausted him and fell back to the bed. 

"I remember seeing Sydney," he said after a moment. 

"He's coming to take over watch in a few minutes," Miss Parker said. 

"He's not dead?" 

"No. One of Lyle's tricks." 

"I fell right into it." His mouth twisted in self-derision. 

"You can't be a genius all the time," Miss Parker tried to sooth him. He studied the room for a moment. 

"Where am I?" 

"A safehouse away from the Centre. More importantly, away from Lyle." She placed the glass back on the night table. 

"You rescued me?" 

"Rescued?" She stood and moved away from him, staring out the dust-crusted window at the dilapidated neighborhood two stories below. How could she return him to a place that treated him worse than an animal? She closed her eyes a moment and took a breath. It was her job and duty to the Centre to bring Jarod in. She couldn't let him go, but neither could she return him to the conditions she'd just risked her life to take him away from. 

"Why did you rescue me?" his voice sounded a little stronger, more demanding, and more like the Jarod she knew. 

She turned back to the man on the bed, her hands clasped behind her back. "Don't kid yourself, Jarod. I may not agree with Lyle's techniques, however you are going back to the Centre but it will be my conditions." She walked out of the room at that, her way of avoiding any more uncomfortable conversations with Jarod. She closed the door behind her and came face to face with Sydney. She knew he'd heard her parting remarks to Jarod. 

"Jarod is not a commodity to be used for bargaining," Sydney said softly. "Need I remind you he is a human being." 

"Jarod is a product of the Centre. He belongs to the Centre," Miss Parker said with more conviction than she felt. She stared at Sydney a moment and for the first time really wondered if she could trust him. She had to, there was no one else. She needed him to make Jarod well again. "Sam will be relieving you in a few hours. I have to get to the Centre at my regular time." 

"Miss Parker," Sydney's voice stopped her as she made her way to the door. "I want Jarod back as much as you, but not like this." 

"We have a bargaining chip, Syd, we have Jarod and we have it in our power to dictate the terms of his return." 

**** 

Miss Parker sat at her desk and as the door to her office flung inward, she looked up meeting her brother's eyes across the room. 

"Problems?" she asked. Lyle came across the room to her desk, planted his hands on the desktop and leaned toward her. 

"You tell me, sister," he ground out. 

"What got your undies in a bunch?" She leaned back in her chair and regarded her bother steadily. 

"You have him. Where did you take him?" 

"And who might 'he' be?" 

"Don't play dumb." 

Miss Parker drew her 9mm, cocked it and fired. The sound of the unsilenced weapon thundered in the room as the bullet thudded into the wall behind Lyle. She had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. She stood, leaned on her desk, her face inches from Lyle's. 

"Get the hell out of my office. Next time I won't miss." 

Lyle hesitated then backed off, never taking his eyes off the gun she held in her hand. "This isn't finished." 

"You're right," Miss Parker replied, "it isn't." 

End 

**To be continued in Damage Control...**** **


	3. Chapter Three: Damage Control

Author's Note:This has been written for some time however I somehow managed to delete it from my hard disk but knew that it was archived at a Pretender site somewhere in cyberspace.Well, I found it and here it is and I've updated it a bit.Still it's not perfect. None of the stuff I write ever is.

**Descent to Darkness part III:**  
**Damage Control**

By Allykat

  
  


**The Centre, Blue Cove, Delaware **

"Daddy, I--I" Miss Parker said as she walked into her father's office. She stopped short as she spied Brigitte. "I need to talk to you... alone," she added, leveling a hard stare at the other woman 

"Well, Miss Parker, if you have something to say don't you think both your mommy and your daddy should hear what you have to say?" 

Miss Parker crossed the room and looked down at Brigitte where she leaned a hip on the corner of Mr. Parker's desk. "You are not my mother and the word I would apply to you, I have the decency not to say in the presence ofmy father. Now get out." 

Mr. Parker stood and inserted himself between the two women, nodding at Brigitte as he did so, a silent request for her to leave. A good thing he did ask the woman to leave, Miss Parker thought as she turned to stare out the window. She listened to Brigitte's footsteps cross the office, then the door opening and closing. After what Brigitte did to Jarod, she was lucky to be walking out instead of writhing on the floor with a bullet in her kneecap. 

"What is it you want, Angel?" her father voice came from behind her. 

Miss Parker detected a hint of exasperation in his tone. He wanted her to get along with Brigitte, but she'd embrace Lyle as her blood brother before she'd used the word 'mother' on that woman. Miss Parker turned and studied her father for a few minutes. Little happened around The Centre without her father knowing. But did he know of Jarod's capture? Perhaps he knew that Lyle and Brigitte had Jarod in SL-27, at least until a few nights ago. How could he dare to keep that information from her if he did? She decided to play it straight. 

"Daddy, I have Jarod." 

Mr. Parker stiffened at that and his eyebrows rose. She couldn't decipher the fleeting expression on his face before it disappeared. 

"Outstanding. But if you have him, why isn't he here?" he asked with an edge to his voice.A threat?Miss Parker couldn't tell. 

_Careful_, she warned herself. _This man is my father, but he was also a company man.Don't make him choose between her and The Centre_. 

"Recently I've had cause to question the loyalties of some of the employees of The Centre." She looked at him pointedly. "Lately I'm not certain who I can trust." 

"Am I included in that group?" 

"I don't know daddy, should you be?" 

"I am always on your side, Angel," he said with a patented daddy smile, which to Miss Parker only served to give his words the opposite meaning. 

Miss Parker crossed her arms. "Have you ever considered that Jarod has every right to be free? That he is not a slave to the Centre?" 

"You are asking questions that got your mother killed," he said as he came up behind her. 

She blinked back sudden tears while she studied his face. He didn't blink, didn't look away, just looked at her. "Is that why mother was killed? She believed that the Centre has no right to hold people hostage?" 

"Jarod was raised by the Centre, he is the Centre's child and we are his parents. He is a runaway and like any parent we are concerned. Angel," he said and rested his hands on her shoulders, "the man is like a small boy. He isn't mentally equipped to live outside the Centre. The Centre psychologists are concerned about him, they are afraid that his vigilantism will turn violent." 

"Daddy, when I bring Jarod in what will the Centre plan do with him?" 

Mr. Parker slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Now angel, that wouldn't concern you-" 

Miss Parker shrugged away his arm and ducked away. "Are you going to allow Lyle to have him again? To treat him like some subhuman lab experiment?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about." He blinked a few times. 

"Don't patronize me," she returned, her voice edged with frustration and anger. "You see the budget, your signature is on it. Don't tell me you know nothing about SL-27." 

"Angel, trust me, there is nothing down there." 

For a moment, Miss Parker wanted to believe her father. "Trust? There is that word again, as if it has any meaning at The Centre," she ground out. 

"The explosion destroyed everything, and almost us with it." 

"That isn't what I'm talking about, daddy, I was down there recently. Someone has used the Centre's finances to repair it and create new sim labs." Her father looked surprised, but Miss Parker didn't know if it was because she knew about SL-27, or because he didn't know that SL-27 was back in business. 

"You must be mistaken," he said finally. 

"I know what I saw," Miss Parker replied. "Are you saying you don't believe me?" 

"No... no, I believe you. But what were you doing down there?" 

"Following a tip--." 

The door to Mr. Parker's office opened and Lyle put his head in. 

"Am I interrupting anything?" he asked with that I'm-so-innocent bland expression. Miss Parker wanted to slap it off. He made Satan look like a newborn lamb. 

"Look what crawled out from under its rock. I think we should show Daddy the nice way you fixed up SL-27." 

"SL-27 is destroyed. There is nothing down there." He came into the office and closed the door behind him. He looked too smug for her peace of mind. She couldn't believe they were related. 

Miss Parker walked over to Lyle and leaned close to him. "You lie," she whispered, then aloud for the benefit of her father said: "I think we should all go down to hell and take a tour." 

"Hell?" Mr. Parker echoed. 

"SL-27," Miss Parker replied. 

Father and son glanced at one another, but Miss Parker wasn't sure how to interpret the silent look between them.   


****   


Jarod staggered down the back staircase of the hotel. He leaned heavily on the stair handrail to hold himself upright, without it he would have fallen. At the bottom of the stairwell he propped himself against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. The short trip from his room exhausted him. A bout of shivers raced over his body, his knees buckled and he swallowed back bile rising in his throat. He gulped deep breaths of air that helped clear his head. 

Bracing himself against the wall, he shoved the back door open with his foot and stared out the door into the back alley. Freezing air rushed over him, plastering his sweat-damp clothing to his body. He took a breath to gather strength then staggered out and losing his balance, topped into a trio of trashcans. They rattled to the ground and he with them. He could only hope the sound wouldn't attract any attention, knowing he'd be unable to do anything if it did. Shaking uncontrollably, he managed to pull himself to his feet. 

A brisk wind slanted down a chilling rain that soaked through his thin flannel shirt and blue jeans. His feet were bare; he couldn't feel his toes. He hadn't had time to find any other clothing; he had only thought of escape, the notion of going back to the Centre was unbearable. He didn't know how long he had before Sam regained consciousness so he had to put as much distance between them. For all he knew, the man could be coming after him now. That thought lent some strength to his shaky legs. Placing one hand against the building's brick wall for support and clutching the shirt to his shivering body with the other, he walked unsteadily down toward the alleyway entrance. 

A few cars passed, their tires slicing through the sheet of water on the street. On the opposite side of the street, a pedestrian carrying an umbrella hurried against the rain, soon she was out of sight. Out of breath and ready to collapse, Jarod leaned his shoulder against the building just inside the alleyway. A woman holding a newspaper over her head passed by him, saw him then cringed away with a startled gasp and ran across the street. He dimly wondered at her reaction.Why she would be afraid of him? For the first time in his life thinking was difficult, his head throbbed and his thoughts were incoherent and fuzzy. 

A brown truck decelerated and stopped at the curb. Jarod lifted his head and watched the brown uniformed driver jump out with a box under his arm and disappeared inside a building. Coherent thoughts tried to fight through the haze in his brain, but instead survival instinct took over. 

Jarod looked over his shoulder. He didn't have time to think a plan through. Shoving off from the wall, he half-ran, half-staggered toward the truck, climbed in and fell into the back. Rising to his hands and knees, he crawled to the rear of the truck where he found a canvas tarp lying behind a stack of boxes. Thankful for the cover, he curled up under the tarp, drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around his knees and shivered. 

The trucked slightly sagged to one side as the driver climbed in, put the truck in gear and drove off.   


****   


Miss Parker walked out of the elevator and into the burnt out hull of SL-27.She stopped short and looked around in amazement. She shined the flashlight beam into abandoned offices and across blackened walls. What had been a subfloor of sim labs and offices was nothing but charred remains, like it always had been. Even the air smelt burnt and stale. 

"See Angel, there is nothing down here," Mr. Parker said as he walked a few steps into the sublevel. He stared around with undisguised distaste. 

"It was here and so was--," she stopped, realizing what the name she had been about to say.A name that could get her killed if said in the wrong context.

"And so was who, sis?" Lyle asked as he came up beside her. He tucked his hands into his pants trousers, his face blank except for a tiny gleam in his eyes._Bastard_, Miss Parker thought.As if he read her thoughts, he cast her a slightly triumphant grin.

"And so was I," she competed the sentence. She walked a few more steps down the hallway and trained the beam of the flashlight into a burnt out room. She had to give the devil his due; Lyle certainly knew how to cover his tracks. She turned to her father. "I am positive that this sublevel had been redone, that two days ago SL-27 had been restored and contained fully operational simlabs." 

"Perhaps you're thinking about SL-24. We just had it remodeled with the latest of cutting edge equipment," Mr. Parker said. "Come, I'll give you a personal tour." Mr. Parker took her arm and she allowed him to lead her away, Lyle already strode ahead of them appearing eager to leave. 

"Oh wait, my heel is stuck," Miss Parker said, bent down and snatched up a shiny disk her flashlight had picked up. It looked like a DSA though she couldn't be certain. It was partially covered with soot and she didn't dare pause to examine it and she slipped it into her coat pocket. She entered the elevator and stood silently between Lyle and her father and realized not even the presence of her father gave her comfort. The only people in the Centre she could completely trust were Sydney and Broots, the only people who would not lie or deceive her. Her father looked over at her and smiled. The corners of his eyes crinkling up the way they always did. His smile only increased her uneasiness. 

The elevator slid open to SL-24 and Miss Parker stepped out with her brother and father flanking her. SL-24 appeared to be an exact duplicate of what she had seen of SL-27 the night they had rescued Jarod. Did she imagined SL-27? Could Angelo have taken them not to SL-27, but here? She didn't think Angelo would make that kind of mistake. She walked down the hall and looked around while summoning all her willpower to mask her shock. 

At the cell where she was certain they had found Jarod, she stopped. There was no passcode pad and she turned the knob and opened the door. 

"Excuse me?" asked a lab-coated woman behind a desk. She set aside a stack of papers and laced her fingers across the top of her desk. "May I help you?" 

Miss Parker didn't answer as she stood in the middle of the office and stared around her. "No," she finally managed as the woman patiently waited for her reply. "No, you can't help me." She walked out of the office, closed the door and found Lyle coming up behind her. Her father had stopped down the hall to talk to a woman wearing a white smock over a business suit. 

"Looking for something?" Lyle asked. 

"Should I be, or should I ask the same question of you? What are you looking for?" 

"Perhaps the same thing you are." His hands were back in his pockets as he regarded her steadily. "Willing to negotiate?" 

"Depends on the terms and conditions." 

"We share the credit." 

"That's nice Lyle, but I don't share. Let me remind you that possession is 9/10th of the law." 

"What do you think, Angel?" Mr. Parker asked as he joined them, cutting short their conversation. He looked pleased as he stared around the sterile-looking white walls. "Lyle brought in a few new accounts and the research will be handled here in the new labs." 

"What type of research?" Miss Parker asked. 

"Forensics. We will be working with more then a dozen law enforcement and federal agencies. Would you like to continue with the tour?" 

"It's impressive Daddy, but think I've seen enough," she said, her gaze momentarily lingered on Lyle before she turned back to the elevator. 

"There are a few people I need to see while I'm down here," Mr. Parker called after her. "I'll see you two later." 

Lyle walked with her, keeping step with her long angry strides. She preferred he stayed but telling him to piss off would show weakness, instead she endured his presence with stoic silence. 

"Convinced?" he finally asked as they walked into the elevator and the doors closed behind them. 

"Convinced of what? Your uncanny ability to cover your ass?" 

That bland look was back on his face. "I could have told you that there was no SL-27 and save us all an unpleasant excursion." 

"Lyle, you have to be trusted by the people whom you lie to." 

"Sisterly advice?" 

"A warning, Lyle, because I'm not buying any of this. I know what I saw." She stood close to him. "One day soon, your brown-nosing and your lies aren't going to save you and I'm going to be waiting with a 9mm, and this time when I pull the trigger it won't be a warning shot." 

Lyle laughed; the merriment didn't reach his eyes. They both knew she referred to the bullet she had fired over his shoulder the last time he'd come to her office. 

"I think you're threatening me. I don't like threats." 

The elevator opened up to her office floor and she smiled at him, anger tightening her lips as she walked out. 

"That's too damn bad, Lyle. Let me remind you of two things. One, I don't lie and two, I don't threaten." 

She smiled at him as the elevator doors closed. As the smile faded from her face, she detoured by her office towards Broots. This was the first time all day that she felt good. Opening the door she walked into Broots's enclave of dim lights and humming computer equipment. 

A headphone set covered Broots's ears as he sung in an off-key falsetto voice while bobbing his head in time to music she couldn't hear. 

"Broots," she said in a normal tone. He was oblivious to her presence. She leaned over and lifted one side of the earphones off his ear. "Broots!" she shouted and chuckled as he jumped and nearly fell out of his chair. 

"Ah! Uh! Miss.... Miss Parker." He tore the headphones off his head, clicked the computer mouse on the screen to turn the music off then looked up at her. "What ah, can I help you with?" 

"You can stop singing for one thing." She looked across his desk and saw a CD jewel case and picked it up and turned it over to look at the cover. He cringed in his chair as she read the title. "The Spice Girls? Broots, I didn't know your taste in music ran to teeny-bopper hip-hop." 

Broots squirmed in his seat. "Debbie likes them so she wanted me to listen to them--." 

"Forget it Broots, you don't have to justify your music tastes to me. I'll be worried though if you start listening to Barney songs." Miss Parker dropped the jewel case back on his desk. She handed him the burnt disk she had picked up on SL-27. "This DSA is in bad shape," he said turning it over, blowing on it, then pulling a tissue out of a holder and trying to wipe the soot off. "Where'd you get it." 

"SL-27." 

"What!" He stared at the disk with furious intensity. "How did you get it?" 

"Let's just say that SL-27 is no longer there." 

"That's impossible, we were there." 

"Apparently Lyle had to cover his tracks when we extracted his guest. Think you can get any images from this DSA?" 

"I'll do my best." He looked up at her. "I'll take it down to the lab and have my friend put it through a wash." 

"Don't tell anyone where you got the disk, don't let anyone view it and call me when you're ready to look at it." Her cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her suit coat pocket. "What!" 

"Miss Parker, this is Sydney. I need you down at the safehouse. He is gone." 

"Damn it! There'd better be a good explanation," she ground out, her good mood evaporating. "I'll be there in a half." She clicked the phone closed and returned it to the coat pocket. "Broots, I want you to walk that DSA down to the lab, now!"   


****   


"Doctor, I'm pleased you could stop by," Lyle said as he escorted his visitor to his office door. "I think our arrangement will be mutually beneficial." 

"I trust you will have the facilities ready by the end of the month?" he asked. He was short, his hair thinning and eyeglasses magnified with benevolent eyes. 

"As we agreed upon." 

"Very good. I shall be looking forward to working with you." The doctor held out his hand and they shook. 

At that moment Brigitte breezed in. "I didn't realize you had a visitor." 

She cast a coy smile at Lyle's visitor. The doctor nodded once toward her, then again toward Lyle. 

"I can see myself out, Mr. Lyle," the doctor said, then exited the office and the door closed behind him. 

Lyle crossed to his chair, sat down and leaned back, lacing his hands across his stomach. That meeting had gone well, better than expected. If all went well with the doctor and the new facility, Jarod would be obsolete. He thought about calling off his own personal sweeper team looking for Jarod. They hadn't turned up anything, including where Parker kept Jarod-that is if she still had him. As brilliant as the pretender was, keeping him contained and making him work required too much overhead and politicking. Someone younger would be more cooperative and malleable. 

"Thinking too hard, Mr. Lyle?" Brigitte said. 

Lyle swung around in his chair. He had almost forgot she was there. "Thinking of alternatives and possibilities. How goes the search for Jarod?" For now, Brigitte didn't know of his new and bold endeavor. No one at the Centre did. It would be better that way, the Triumvirate wouldn't tolerate his striking out on his own. But trying to continue his own profitable research facility under the Centre's roof had become too risky. 

"Not well," Brigitte said, taking the lollipop out of her mouth and giving it a long slow lick. "We've tried following Miss Parker, but she is your sister after all, she's much too good and paranoid. She knows she is being followed. I thought my idea of the funeral was perfect." 

"It was," Lyle agreed. "That plan was not the problem, the problem is a leak at the Centre." 

"You don't think it's Miss Parker? Or perhaps Sydney." 

"No, someone else inside the Centre tipped them about Jarod." Lyle rested an elbow on his desk and propped his chin on his knuckles. "But I'll find the leak and fix it permanently." 

"Really? I like that sound of that." Brigitte leaned forward and rested her forearms on her knees. "Is there anything I can do to help?" 

"Maybe." 

Brigitte giggled. "Your daddy won't like this. He doesn't like secrets." 

He doesn't know the half of it, Lyle thought and half-smiled. "Daddy won't know, will he?" 

"Mommy won't tell him," Brigitte said and sucked on her lollipop.   


****   


The outside room was empty. The chair where Sam should be sitting was vacant. The door to Jarod's room stood ajar. She drew her gun, pushed the door open with her foot and entered. A cracked ceramic lamp lay near Sam where he sat on the floor.Sydney knelt next to him. She lowered her gun and took a deep breath as she looked at the empty bed. 

"Son of a bitch!" she stamped a foot in frustration. She holstered her gun and pinched the bridge of her nose between a thumb and forefinger then turned to Sam and Sydney. "Is he alright?" she asked at last. Damn Jarod! she thought. Eight hours ago he could barely sit up unassisted. 

Sydney had Sam propped up against the wall. The man was coming back to consciousness. He had a red lump on the side of his temple where Jarod had hit him with the lamp. Sam opened his eyes and squinted at the light. 

Miss Parker knelt next to him. 

"What happened?" 

"Jarod called for help. I came in and that's when he hit me. I didn't think he had the strength." Sam held a hand to the bump on his head and flinched. 

"He shouldn't," Sydney replied. "Jarod is still weak and sick." 

"How long ago?" Miss Parker asked, resisting the urge to shake the man. 

"I'm not certain." 

"He might still be in the area," Sydney said. "We should check all the hospitals, all the buildings and alleyways. I don't think he could go far. If he stays out in this weather he could die." 

Miss Parker stood and turned toward the door. "What was that?" she whispered, then moved to the wall by the door to listen. Sydney looked up at her and began to speak but she held a finger to her lips and shook her head. 

Back pressed against the wall, she rolled on her shoulder around the doorjamb to the outside room, her gun held at arms length. The room was empty. She lowered her gun and walked quietly to the door to the outside hallway and laid her hand on the doorknob. She had closed the door when she came in and now it wasn't latched. She put a finger in between door and doorjamb and silently pushed it open. She heard retreating footsteps. 

Miss Parker hissed between her teeth. Someone had followed her. She knew to be more careful, that Lyle would do anything to find Jarod's location. Miss Parker stayed on her tiptoes to keep her heels from tapping on the bare wood floor as she hurried down the hall, down the stairs and across the shabby lobby to the sidewalk. She looked up the street and then down the other. A familiar black sedan was parked down the block on the opposite side of the road. 

Miss Parker silently moved forward. Inside the sedan she could see Brigitte's silhouette picking up what looked like a cell phone. Parker crouched-walked toward the car and ducked down beside the door, her weapon held barrel up in a confident grip. She could hear Brigitte's muffled voice. 

"It's Brigitte," the woman said. "Yes, I found where she was keeping him but I think he escaped." She paused, listening to the voice on the other end of the connection. "They don't know how long he's been gone. Yes, darling, a sweeper team in this area would be a good idea as long as they can do their job without alerting Miss Parker. 

Miss Parker yanked open the door and jerked the phone out of Brigitte's hand. The woman obviously had not been expecting company. Miss Parker held the phone to her ear while keeping her gun trained on Brigitte. "Who the hell is this?" Miss Parker demanded. Whoever was on the other end of the line hung up. Miss Parker closed the phone with a snap of her wrist, then tossed it into the empty back seat. "Who were you talking to?" she asked the woman and pressed the gun inches form her smug face. 

"Why Miss Parker, you're not going to shot me now, are you?" 

"It's tempting. I like the thought of seeing your gray matter splattered on the upholstery and even more the idea of never hearing your voice again." 

Miss Parker heard someone come up next to her. It was Sydney. 

"Leave her be, Parker," Sydney said. 

Miss Parker hesitated, then reluctantly lowered her gun. 

"You two look like someone spit in your beer," Brigitte said, her usual cheekiness returning. "Lose something?" She smiled. "Possession is 9/10th of the law." She started up the car as Miss Parker raised her gun. 

To hell with the Centre, she thought as she aimed. Sydney pushed her arm to the side as the car sped off. The bullet ricocheted up into an empty neighboring building. 

"Don't allow her to goad you into making a mistake, Parker," Sydney said, always the man with the wise words. 

Miss Parker felt her anger melt. He was right. She lowered her gun and holstered it. "At least we know that they don't have him." 

"No one will if we don't find him soon," Sydney said.   


****   


A violent bout of shivers woke Jarod. His teeth chattered together and his body convulsed. He opened his eyes and looked around him. He felt disoriented for a moment before remembering he had hitched a ride in the back of the delivery truck. The interior was dark. He didn't know how long he had lain here. He climbed out from under the tarp and staggered to the front of the truck and looked out. 

Yellow night lamps dimly lit a shipping warehouse filled with box roller-ramps and brown delivery trucks. Jarod climbed out, the cement floor was cold on his bare feet. He knew he had to find clothing and food. 

The first door he opened revealed a customer service counter. He closed the door and continued his search. At the back of the warehouse, he opened another door and found himself looking into a break room. He quickly explored the room and beyond that he discovered a locker room. In a quick search of the lockers he found a brown delivery uniform that was too short and wide for him. He didn't care; he put the clothing on and used a belt to cinch the wide trouser-waist around him. He found socks, but no shoes. The socks were better than nothing. In another locker he found a fleece lined nylon jacket and he put it on, grateful that this item fit him better than the   
trousers. 

The refrigerator in the break room contained a half dozen lunch bags and soft drinks. Jarod wolfed down a ham sandwich and a pack of Twinkies he found in one bag. The Twinkies were excellent. He made a mental note to try more of them again. The creamy center was the best. Still hungry, he found a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in another bag and gulped down two cans of soda. A cardboard display box held several dozens bags of chips and crackers. He ate three bags before feeling better. The food should help warm him up, too. 

Now full and feeling better and more alert, Jarod knew he'd have to do something about his situation. He opened a door that opened up to the outside parking lot. Dawn had begun to light the sky to the east. The sound of a starting engine caught his attention. A driver blowing into their cold hands climbed out of a brown semi-truck and hurried toward the warehouse. Jarod halfway closed the door and watched the driver through a crack. When they entered the main warehouse, Jarod sprinted out the door toward the semi. It wasn't his best 50-yard dash, but he made it to the truck without falling. The food and the warm clothes had returned some of his strength. He looked into the back of the truck. The trailer was half loaded with boxes. If he guessed right, this delivery truck might be heading out of state, and the further away from the Centre he could get, the better. He climbed in and squeezed into the back of the truck between a stack of boxes. This time there was no tarp to hide under and Jarod only hope that the driver would close the door and drive away without inspecting the contents.   


****   


"Miss Parker," Broots said as he sidled up to her in the hallway. Sydney was with him. "Are you ready to look at the DSA?" 

"Broots said you found the DSA in SL-27," Sydney said. "What did you see down there?" 

"Nothing. The entire level destroyed by fire. Daddy didn't believe when I told him it had been restored. He took me to SL-24 and it's an exact replica of SL-27." 

"We don't know for certain that we were in SL-27, only that Angelo took us to Jarod. Did you see anything that indicated what level we were on?" 

"Are you denying what we saw that night?" 

"Not denying, Parker, only wondering at what is going on and who is involved," he stressed. "The cover-up of Jarod's capture and the renovation of SL-27, if it indeed was SL-27, might go to the deepest levels of the Centre or beyond. We may only think we know what is going on." 

Miss Parker wondered about her blood pressure. If her private physician knew her current state he would probably give her a sedative. Damn! What the hell was going on and who the hell was involved? She could trust Sydney and Broots, but the three of them seemed such an insignificant team against the Centre and their machinations. 

"Miss Parker," Broots said again, this time a little louder. "The DSA?" 

"Why don't you announce it to the entire Centre," she snapped and stared at him until he dropped his gaze. It wasn't his fault, and felt a tiny twinge of guilt for taking her anger out of him. After all, he had been diligent in his task of restoring the burned DSA. "Okay, let's see what you have." 

Broots suddenly dropped his gaze, shuffled his feet and held the DSA behind his back. Sydney cleared his throat. Miss Parker turned around and came face to face with her favorite wheezing demon. His flat snake-like gaze brushed over them, stopping to rest on Broots before continuing to her. 

"Dr. Raines, you look different today. Is that a new oxygen tank?" she asked with a pseudo-smile. She wouldn't be surprised if he had been involved with Jarod's containment in SL-27. 

"Do you know something that you should be telling the rest of us, Miss Parker?" Raines wheezed. 

"Funny, I thought of asking you the very same question," she replied. "But I'm beginning to think that if anyone came up with a straight answer in this place, it'd stick in their throat and they'd choke and die on it." 

"Despite what you think you may know, Jarod should be your first priority. You're wasting your time on Centre business that doesn't concern you." 

"Oh, and what business would that be, exactly? Bring SL-27 back to life? I'm beginning to wonder if chasing Jarod has become an excuse to keep me away from the Centre while you do Lyle's dirty work." 

Raines took a deep raspy breath. "You would do well to remember what your job is Miss Parker." 

"So this hallway chit-chat is a complete waste of precious time and keeping me away from my objective that you were sonice to reiterate for me.If you'll excuse me." She left Raines standing and staring after her as she strode down the hallway. 

Broots jogged to keep up with her, Sydney following at a slower pace. 

"I can't believe you spoke to Raines that way." 

"They have no expectations of me catching Jarod, this is all a witch hunt to distract me from their real purpose." 

"The Pretender program," Sydney said softly. 

"They--whoever they are--are taking this to another level. Beyond any previous Pretender project. I wonder exactly who Lyle's new clients are." 

"Clients?" Sydney echoed. 

"That information came up in a little conversation I had with daddy and Lyle while touring SL-24. Lyle brought the Centre new clients." Miss Parker stood abruptly and Broots had to sidestep to keep from running into her. "Broots, I need you to snoop around." 

"Don't I always," he mumbled as they arrived at his office and the three entered. 

Broots sat as his desk and inserted the DSA into player while Miss Parker locked the door with a decisive click. 

"Are you ready?" he asked softly. 

Sydney and Miss Parker gathered behind his disk and Broots hit the play button. 

The screen fuzzed and background voices were unintelligible, then cleared into startling, horrifying clarity. 

"Oh. My. God." Miss Parker's eyes widened as she stepped away from the images on the screen, as if putting distance between her and these atrocities would make them somehow go away.   


****   


The first thing Jarod noticed was that he was warm and comfortable. He gathered his thoughts and remembered that he had hid inside a semi-truck. Had the Centre found him? He slowly became aware of other things, sounds, voices, and antiseptic smells. A hospital? He opened his eyes, squinting at first. 

"Nice to see that you've decided to join the living," a female voice said, thankfully not Miss Parker's. Jarod turned toward the voice and found a young woman sitting in a chair. She wore a brown uniform. She stood and walked to his bedside. Jarod had the impression of height. Her long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail. She smiled down at him. 

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice rough. 

"John Hopkins hospital. My brother is a doctor here," she replied. 

"I'm in Baltimore?" This was better than Jarod hoped for. The Centre wouldn't be able to track him here. 

"Baltimore Maryland," she affirmed. "A forklift operator found you in the back of my truck this evening at the Baltimore-Washington International Airport. You almost took a tip to the west coast. We though you were dead. An ambulance brought you here. Do you remember?" 

The west coast wouldn't be bad, Jarod thought then realized she was waiting for an answer. "Yes, I remember." 

"Do you usually stow away on delivery trucks?" 

"Not when I can take an airplane," he joked, trying to ease the woman. 

She did laugh. 

"What should I call you besides my Stowaway? You have no ID. The hospital has you listed as John Doe." 

"My name is Jarod," he replied, winced and held a hand to his head. 

"Just Jarod?" 

Jarod thought quickly and looked around the room. He spotted a copy of Reader's Digest. "Jarod Reed." 

"Well, Jarod Reed, I'm Debbie Platt," she replied and held out her hand. 

"Nice to meet you Debbie," Jarod said. 

"The delivery company could press charges, but we won't. It seems to me that you have enough problems of your own. If you need a job or something, my uncle owns a small warehousing business. He could use a hand in the warehouse. You look like you could lift some hefty boxes." 

Perhaps it wasn't a bad idea to lay low for awhile, Jarod thought to himself as he looked around the hospital room. He suddenly noticed a weekly news magazine next to the Reader's Digest on the table. "Excuse me, could you pass me that magazine?" 

"This?" she held up the Newsweek and passed it to him when he nodded. 

On the cover was a photo collage of a recent drug bust. An uneasy feeling crept over Jarod as he flipped to the page and began reading the story. The largest heroine drug bust in history had occurred in California. The shipment had originated from Florida where arrests had been made and the guilty parties jailed and awaiting trial. There was something important about this, Jarod knew, but what? His mind was still fuzzy. He stared at the article, looking at the accompanying photos. Why should this story be important to him? One face in a photo, the face of a DEA agent, stared back at him. In the background, bundles of drug were being loaded into a unmarked van. The drugs were in California; the trial would be in Florida. The drugs needed to be shipped to Florida. By van?No. Too slow. Shipped by plane, he realized. Shipped to Florida where the evidence would be held until the perpetrator's trial. 

The memory of the high jacking sim he had been forced to perform for Lyle made him jerk upright. He gripped the sides of the hospital bed as the magazine slipped to the floor. Was this it? The plane in the sim had been filled with drugs. But it could be any plane, and there had been no evidence to link it to a bust in California. 

Jarod's pretender intuition told him not to take a chance. 

"I have to get out of here." He threw the blankets aside, a plan already formulating in his mind. "It may already be too late." 

"You can't leave," Debbie said, and tried to push him back to he bed. 

"If I don't, innocent people will die."   


****   


**Two days later, somewhere in California. **

"Okay, agents!" FBI special agent Jim Castor clapped his hand and the hum of voices in the room quieted. "The shipment is ready to go out tonight. You all have your assignments. Let's make this trip smooth. Agent Henderson is ill and has been grounded. Your new pilot is Agent Jarod Reed." A tall, dark-haired man stepped forward and nodded to the group. 

"According to reports," Agent Reed said with a sly grin, his narrowed eyes looked at each of the six DEA agents who would be on board, "our flight should be smooth all the way to Florida." 

  
  


[][1][][2][][1][][3][][4][][3]

   [1]: http://www.the-pretender.de/d.htm
   [2]: d.htm
   [3]: http://www.the-pretender.de/index.htm
   [4]: index.htm



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